


A Search for Colors

by TheAuthorGod



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10x21 Denial, 10x22 Denial, Canon Compliant, Cas' Colors, Destiel - Freeform, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mark of Cain, Mutual Pining, Road Trips, cas can pick up on a longing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3935236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAuthorGod/pseuds/TheAuthorGod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Sam told Dean about Cas' mind being read as colors, Dean has been preoccupied in figuring out what exactly that means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Search for Colors

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can be used as a DENIAL DRUG.  
> It treats symptoms like 10x21 and 10x22 and anything from there on out.

Dean had been obsessed with the colors thing ever since Sam told him about it. He kept trying to figure out what it must look like inside of Cas’ mind. Dean liked to know what people were thinking and while he had always had problems telling what Cas was thinking, he usually could decipher Cas’ motives and anticipate his actions. Cas’ motives and actions were like those of a soldier, like Dean’s own motives and actions, perhaps too much like John Winchester’s motives and actions.  
  
But now, now, Dean had a new idea of what went on in Cas’ head. He needed to know. It took over the majority of his idle thoughts.  
  
Not that thoughts of Cas hadn’t already dwelled there, in Dean’s idle thoughts.  
  
He grabbed up his overnight bag and kicked his bedroom door closed after him. He strode down the hallway to the Bunker’s entry before moving past Sam, quietly, so he wouldn't wake him from his slumber over an old book.  
  
He took the stairs one at a time instead of two because he wanted to ensure that he was quiet.  
  
He threw his bag into the passenger’s seat and practically threw himself next to it in the driver’s seat.  
  
Then everything became still. Frozen, Dean gripped hard on the steering wheel. “You Feathery Bastard, get down here and explain me something.”  
  
The air was electric; but, no sound of wings flapping or monotone ‘hello, Dean’ sounded out.  
  
Dean almost growled. He turned the key in the ignition, cooing at Baby until her crankshaft turned over. He drove. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going. It was the going that he needed not the destination. At least, that wasn’t what he needed at that moment.  
  
\---  
  
At some time past 2:37 last night, Dean had given into his exhaustion and pulled into a truck stop to take a nap. He was awoken by the sound of his phone going off.  
  
He reached blindly at first before opening his eyes and making more calculated moves with his elbow and wrist. He tapped the screen and brought the phone to his ear. “What?”  
  
> “Dude, where are you? I wake up and you’re gone. No note, no nothing.”  
  
Dean squinted out the window to see one of the obnoxious green signs. “Somewhere on route 70.” He shifted until he was sitting up straight and looking around. Many of the truckers had already left. Dean must have been really out not to have be woken up by the sound of the 18 wheelers heading out.  
  
> “Somewhere on…? Dean, what are you doing on route 70? Did you find a case?”  
  
With his free hand, Dean rubbed his overnight scruff. “I, uh, I had to think.” It was sort of embarrassing how little he had thought about what he was doing. Of course, Dean wasn’t always the best at thinking things out anyway.  
  
> “Why would you- Why couldn’t you think here?”  
  
Dean’s head rolled back until he was looking at the underside of the impala’s hood. “I needed the air?” He didn’t sound sure; but, he didn’t care. He needed out of the bunker. He was really hoping that he’d get to talk to Cas in the car; but, when he didn’t answer he… well, he decided to drive.  
  
> “Don’t suppose you know when you’ll be back.”  
  
Sam sounded sullen and bitchy all at once.  
  
Biting his lip, Dean knew there was only one true answer and only on right answer and that they weren’t the same. He went with the right answer, “I’ll be back in a few days.”  
  
> “Alright. Whatever. I’ll keep looking into the mark.”  
  
Dean nodded in no particular direction. “You do that.” He hung up. Saying good bye meant that he didn’t plan of returning; that was how this line of work went. He shrugged and sat up straighter trying to determine if he should start driving to find food or step out to use the truck stop’s restrooms.  
  
He wiggled a little to test whether or not he needed to piss.  
  
“Why are you doing that?”  
  
Dean jumped and turned to see that Cas was in the back seat, sitting proper in the middle of the bench. “Don’t do that, Cas!” He shook out the fright from his head and his goose-bumped arms. “How long have you been there?”  
  
“It would have been rude to wake you.”  
  
Dean pulled the latch on the car door and started toward the truck stop’s facilities. “How many times do I got to tell you? It’s just creepy!” He needed to go to the bathroom before hunting down food; especially since Cas just about scared the piss out of him.  
  
\---  
  
“Where are we going, Dean?” Cas had taken his usual spot in the front seat. He hadn’t moved Dean’s bag while he was in the restroom; but that hadn’t stopped him from going through it. He had pawed through it to the point that Dean could tell. Cas had a way of not putting things back in their respective places or he just had a very different organization style than Dean had, either way, Dean still didn’t know where his toothpaste went.  
  
Dean pressed down more on the gas pedal. “I don’t know.”  
  
“I hardly believe that. You are always going somewhere. Is it a hunt?” Cas picked at his trench coat.  
  
Swatting Cas’ hands away from the trench coat’s stitching, Dean’s jaw hardened. “It isn’t a hunt.”  
  
Cas stared at the hand that Dean had swatted away. He looked at it, really examined it, then blinked himself out of it. He looked at Dean then around the car. “Should I be worried that Sam isn’t here? He isn’t in the trunk is he?”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Dean checked the next lane over to make sure he could move over and pass the slow car in the left-hand lane. Who did he think he was driving the speed limit in the fast lane?  
  
It was a warm day and the windows were down. The smell of fresh water hit his nose and he turned to look out the window in time to see the trees break and a river appear. The car’s wheels rolled onto the bridge and the thundering sound pitched up a note.  
  
“Is it like that?” Dean heard himself saying.  
  
Cas looked out the window, squinted, then turned back to Dean. “Is what like what?”  
  
Heat rose in his cheeks. Dean tried to sound nonchalant. “The colors in your head, do they look like that?”  
  
Cas looked out the window again. His head tilted. He began to shake his head before voicing the verdict aloud. “No.” He turned and sat looking forward in his seat. “It doesn’t look like that.”  
  
\---  
  
Dean knew a place. It was small and homey and served the best pie. They ended up there after a while longer on the road. Dean was fairly certain that he was speeding on every road and highway that they’d turned onto.  
  
Drumming his fingers on the red, fake leather seat back, Dean glanced at the waitress getting his pie from under one of the 3 glass domes on the counter. He shifted in the seat so his jacket wasn’t bunched up at the small of his back. “So, you want some of the pie?”  
  
Cas had been sitting there through the entire meal, despite looking at the burger with more longing than Dean shot at the dessert menu. Cas had declined Dean’s offers to get him food so far.  
  
The waitress slid the plate onto the table. She patted her apron then snapped her fingers. Dean wasn’t entirely sure how she managed to snap with nails almost an inch long. “I don’t got any forks. I’ll be right back.” She winked and pivoted toward the counter.  
  
Leaning forward, Cas spoke low. “Food doesn’t taste the same since I’m an,” his voice dropped even lower, “angel again.”  
  
Dean shrugged. “Yeah, not all pizza is good; but, sometimes you eat it and remember a time it tasted better.”  
  
When Cas sat back, he stared into the space over Dean’s shoulder. “So, you don’t always enjoy food?”  
  
“No, not always.” Dean turned the pie plate to see the slice better. It looked as good as he remembered; the cherries were dark enough to be sweet and there was a powdered sugar dusting. “Like this place. Whenever I eat cherry pie anywhere else, I think of the cherry pie here.” He looked up to Cas who was squinting back. “Or, you know, my mother’s cherry pie.” He swallowed.  
  
The waitress sidled up to their table again. She held out a fork to Dean that he took then turned and offered one to Cas, “A fork, my dear.”  
  
Dean waited with his first forkful of pie halfway to his mouth.  
  
Peaking over for what looked like permission, Cas’ lips pursed minutely.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Dean made an exaggerated nod.  
  
Cas took the fork from the waitress and thanked her. He took a cherry from where it had spilled from the crust and brought it to his mouth in a trepid move. He paused and looked at Dean again.  
  
Giving up on whatever Cas was doing, Dean took his first bite and practically melted into the vinyl seat. It was definitely as good as the last time he’d had it. It wasn’t quite the same as his mother’s; but, Dean suspected that there was an additional factor toward that.  
  
Mimicking his move, Cas put the cherry in his mouth and winced a little bit. After the initial wince, though, he began to chew and his face relaxed.  
  
They continued to consume their treat alternately taking bites until Cas passed on the crust because he knew that it was Dean’s favorite part. Setting the fork aside, Dean picked up the crust and dragged it through the sauce that had spilled from the pie onto the plate.  
  
“You were right.” Cas fiddled with his fork a little as he spoke. “I was able to think of the cherry pie I ate on the way to the Bunker when I was human. This pie began to taste more like it the more I thought about it.”  
  
Dean smiled even though the last of the crust hadn’t been swallowed yet.  
  
Cas nodded back. He tilted his head and his eyes became softer. “Thank you.”  
  
Shrugging it off, Dean stood from the table and pulled out his wallet. He left a twenty on the table because he was feeling good and motioned for Cas to follow.  
  
When Dean exited the diner, the wheat was rolling in the far field under the wind’s command. The sun was halfway to its full glory and the sky was littered with white, puffy organic shapes. He made his way to the car without looking at the gravel or the line of cars where they were parked; he was too interested in how the world looked.  
  
Cas moved quicker like he couldn’t see the harmony going on. “Let’s go, Dean.”  
  
Nodding, Dean unlocked the car and, uncharacteristically, threw the keys over the hood to Cas so he could open his door. Cas did.  
  
“Does it look like that?” Dean was vying for the sun’s attention along with everything else. He tore his attention away to watch as Cas stepped into the car and sat in one fluid motion.  
  
Without paying mind to the surroundings, Cas replied, “No.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and sat into the driver’s seat and took the keys out of Cas’ outstretched hand.  
  
\---  
  
They stopped in seemingly random intervals if someone were watching. If someone was trying to make sense of their actions without knowing what Dean was searching for, it seemed crazy. The problem lay that Cas didn’t really know what Dean was looking for and neither did Dean.  
  
Perhaps he was looking for an answer. Perhaps he was looking for more than that, less.  
  
Every few hours, Dean would point at some new scenery and ask Cas, “Does it look like that?”  
  
Cas had given up on the charade of looking. He would look at Dean and reply, “No.”  
  
They’d stop at a motel and sleep. Well, Dean would sleep; he wasn’t entirely sure what Cas did. Maybe he lay awake on the other bed. Maybe he flew somewhere else. Dean knew just as little about that as he did about what went on in Cas’ head.  
  
When Dean woke the next morning, Cas was there. Not inside watching him sleep, thank god; but, standing outside by the car, like he’d been waiting there all night. “Dean.” When he said the word it held so much weight that Dean felt it like a brand to his skin, a lot like the hand that had once been burned into his shoulder.  
  
“Yeah?” He opened Baby’s door and swung his bag into the back seat. He hadn’t been able to find his tooth paste so he had to use the little pack left by the motel. That was not Dean’s ideal; so, their first stop was going to be the drugstore to get some more.  
  
Cas said no more; it was like everything was already said. Dean wasn’t quite sure if it was true.  
  
\---  
  
On the third day, Dean realized that if he wanted to have been truthful to Sam he’d have to turn around. No more rolling hills, no more just going, he’d have to head back, head home. A ‘few days’ has to be less than a week; it was an unsaid rule between the Winchesters.  
  
It didn’t feel right to turn around yet. Cas was finally starting to relax into the passenger seat; he wasn’t looking straight forward anymore. He was looking out the window. He was looking down the road. He was looking behind them. He was looking at Dean.  
  
He was animated again. Maybe that was what Dean had been looking for. Castiel had an awkward balance of emotionless monotone and… well… emoticons. Recently, Cas had been trying to be the laid back version, the friendly version, but Dean could always see through it. Cas was uptight about the mark.  
  
The Mark.  
  
Dean took his eyes off the road for a moment to check that the mark was still there. He hadn’t felt its pull or its power since this excursion began. Well, more importantly, from when he found Cas in the backseat.  
  
But, Dean didn’t want to think about that.  
  
“Stop Dean.”  
  
“What?” Dean jerked. Was something wrong? Was Cas sensing something? Had Dean forgotten something?  
  
When Dean glanced over, Cas was looking out over the hills to the mountains beyond. He was watching in that direction. Dean’s heart soared; perhaps they had found what Cas’ colors looked like. He found a lookout point with parking that he trusted Baby in. Cas had made upset sounds each time they passed one with horrible gravel.  
  
Dean parked the car and emerged from his side. He walked up to the railing and looked out over the edge.  
  
There was a river slicing through the shallow hills that begin to stand in the distance in the court of purple tinged mountains. There were plants and trees making green splotches of beauty sparse across the scene.  
  
Part of Dean is relieved to finally have something to compare to what Cas’ mind must look like; but, at the same time, he wasn’t sure what to do about it. He couldn’t just stay there. He couldn’t take a picture. The picture would mar the colors; but, his memory would have the same affect.  
  
“You misunderstand.”  
  
Dean turned to Cas. He was leaning against the passenger’s side of the car, arms crossed and his head tilted back. His eyes were closed.  
  
“What do you mean?” Dean took a step in his direction. “I thought you wanted me to stop so I could see this.”  
  
Cas opened his eyes and turned his head to look over the view Dean had just tried his best to commit to memory. He began to shake his head. “No, Dean, my mind doesn’t look like that.” He leaned his head back onto the car’s hood and closed his eyes again.  
  
Anger welled up in Dean’s chest. Was this a joke to Cas? Was this some sort of practical joke? Was he choosing now to act like Gabriel? “What do you mean? You wanted me to stop.” Dean gritted his teeth and tried not to raise his voice. He didn’t want to give the Mark any power; but, it was hard to rein in.  
  
“I did. Dean, what were you thinking about when I asked you to stop?”  
  
Dean was vibrating with anger and the power of the Mark; but, he would never hurt Cas. He began to look around for something to hit other than his angel… his, uh, his friend. “Cas, why does it matter what I was-?”  
  
“Humor me.” Cas’ voice was monotone and his face was unmoving. He was soaking in the sun from where it was beginning to make its descent.  
  
Growling, Dean blinked and tried to remember what he had been thinking. His brain was beginning to go haywire because of the adrenaline and the Mark. What had he been thinking? He wasn’t sure. He just wished that the pounding in his head would stop. It hadn’t been bothering him the whole-  
  
That’s what he was thinking about.  
  
The tightness in his shoulders began to fade. The pounding slowed then stopped. His thoughts from earlier returned. He had been grateful. He had been grateful for the few days he’d had without the Mark controlling him. He had been grateful for his time with Cas. He’d been thanking the universe, God – if there was one. Dean’s fists loosened.  
  
“There it is.”  
  
Dean looked up to see Cas smiling at him, open and welcoming, filled with power and compassion and… admiration?  
  
Cas walked over to him slowly. Once he was right in front of Dean, almost toe to toe, he reached out and put a hand on Dean’s face. “That’s what it looks like.”  
  
Shaking his head in disbelief and in confusion, Dean’s mouth tried to ask the question; but, Cas’ other hand came up to hold his face and jaw in place.  
  
Cas looked over his face. His eyes were bright. “What you feel like right now. That’s what my colors look like.” Cas’ hand dropped from Dean’s face and brushed down the lapels of his jacket, feeling his chest underneath. “When you’re at peace, you’re soul is so bright, Dean. Full of color and life.” He shook his head in what seemed to be a gathering of thoughts. “When a mind reader read’s your mind they miss the intention of your soul because a human’s mind and soul are distant and unconnected exception through action. An angel’s grace holds both an angel’s thoughts and an angel’s intent. It was only color he could see because he could not get through it to the thought.”  
  
Dean swallowed. “So every angel has the colors.”  
  
“Different colors, but colors, yes.” Cas took his hands back from where they had been resting on Dean’s chest. He looked sad or relieved or tired or some combination thereof.  
  
“And every human has colors.” Dean tried to process that.  
  
Cas nodded.  
  
Dean breathed in deep and then let out the long breath. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”  
  
Pressing his lips together, Cas almost looked like he wasn’t going to answer; like he was going to avoid the question. He licked his lips then his expression softened to the point that he almost had that admiration-look again. “I wanted to see how long you could go without the Mark controlling you. I thought this might be a good exercise.”  
  
“And we stopped because…?”  
  
“Sam texted me. You told him that you’d be gone for a few days and he was worried. I had heard your… let’s say, prayer; but, you are almost constantly,” Cas used air-quotes, “sending to me. I just thought it was part of the background noise.”  
  
Dean felt hurt. “I’m background noise?”  
  
Squeezing his eyes shut, Cas winced. “That’s not what I- I can pick up on a longing; it doesn’t have to be a formal prayer. You, I’ve found, are always calling, whether you are aware or not.”  
  
Color rose into Dean’s cheeks. He hadn’t known that Cas could pick up on that, on feelings as well as prayers. He felt guilty suddenly.  
  
“Stop that.” Cas jabbed a finger into the middle of Dean’s chest.  
  
Dean’s eyes grew wide. “What?”  
  
Cas smoothed Dean’s shirt where he had rumpled it. “You felt guilty, right? Your colors were becoming a nasty shade of puke green.”  
  
Of course they were. “So, uh, are my colors really like your colors?” Dean’s face got hot. He was trying not to feel humiliated over this.  
  
Cas’ eyebrows drew together. “I thought we just went over that. All humans and all angels have…” Dean watched at color flooded the skin over Cas’ cheekbones then up into his ears. “You mean ours specifically, don’t you?”  
  
Nodding, Dean tried not to let his emotion show in his expression before he gave up on it; not because he was having trouble. He was well trained in the art of burying and hiding feelings. He just figured that if Cas could see his ‘colors’ and guilt and feel his longing then it was pointless to cover it up in his appearance. If Sam were there, Dean would cover his feelings and adjust his expression; but, he wasn’t fooling anyone with only he and Cas.  
  
“You and I share a profound bond.” Cas gave a half smile. “Our colors are very, very similar; but no two sets of colors are exactly the same.”  
  
They’re quiet for a long moment. Dean not hiding his emotion and Cas not pretending not to notice.  
  
“Good.” Dean nodded the clapped Cas on the upper arm and turned toward the car.  
  
They both got in. Dean pulled out of the space and followed the sun to the horizon.  
  
\---  
  
Cas texted Sam. Dean didn’t know what he texted or why, except that Sam was probably worried. Dean drove until it was dark and after it was dark, he drove until he got tired and then after he was tired, he drove until he found a motel.  
  
Without any pretense, Cas walked in with Dean and went through his stuff while Dean brushed his teeth with his new tooth paste. He pulled out a pair of clean boxers and a T-shirt.  
  
Dean didn’t ask. He didn’t feel he needed to. They were on the same page. While Dean didn’t know exactly what the whole colors thing did for them both, he knew that he could trust Cas’ actions and motives again. They were like his own. They were warriors.  
  
Maybe not.  
  
Cas peeled off his clothes, each thing being folded neatly and put into a pile on the plush chair in the room. Dean tried not to watch; but, he had to. The way Cas’ muscles moved in his shoulders needed to be watched by someone, Dean fit the bill. He pulled on the shirt and boxers he had picked and walked over to Dean.  
  
Personal space was gone. It was weird, though, because Dean didn’t mind. It baffled him. He’d always fought for his personal space having been deprived of a space of his own from when he was 4 to when they had found the Bunker. Cas had an all access pass though. It was like he always had.  
  
It was made weirder when Cas picked up Dean’s toothbrush and toothpaste and brushed his own teeth once Dean had finished. Dean just let Cas do it though. It was like he was a… a… well, the last time Dean let someone use his toothbrush had been Lisa when they were together; but, that couldn’t…  
  
Dean tried to think of anything else when he had to change. He tried not to feel Cas’ eyes on him as he changed. It was strange; but, it was welcome and maybe, he wiggled his hips a little more than he should.  
  
He surprised himself when he crawled into bed and left room for Cas. Of course, where else could Cas crash? He had covered the chair with his clothes and it was only a single room.  
  
Cas crawled in next to him. They both lay stiff until Dean yet again gave up on trying to hide; it was useless against Cas.  
  
Once he had relaxed, so did Cas.  
  
“Thank you, Cas.” His voice sounded hoarse. It sounded almost like he was gearing up to cry but he wasn’t, unless he was going to cry from being relieved, which he wasn’t.  
  
“For what?”  
  
The lights were off. Dean searched for Cas’ face in the dark. He found it and then let his hand rest beside where Cas’ head was on the pillow. “For everything.”  
  
Cas scooted forward and pressed his cheek to the back of Dean’s fingers where they laid. “That’s a lot.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Sighing, Cas nodded; Dean could feel it on his hand. Cas’ jaw moved before he spoke. “It’s better when we do things together.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, together.” But he smiled and turned further toward Cas. He wasn’t sure if the personal space thing had completely dissolved to just turned into an immediate later of atoms upon his skin; but, he surged forward and pressed a kiss to Cas’ lips.  
  
Cas reciprocated, thank god, or thank whatever.  
  
Afterward, they were silent for a long time before falling asleep.  
  
\---  
  
When they woke up, Dean was hard for the first time in forever. The Mark had seriously been messing with his natural mojo. He could get it up when he tried hard (excuse the pun). He’d been able to get it up when he was a demon; it was weird, like what got him hot and bothered as a demon was different than what got him like that as a human.  
  
Cas didn’t make it any better. He turned over and snuggled backward into Dean. His ass lined up with Dean’s crotch with crazy accuracy.  
  
Dean gritted his teeth. “You’re not asleep, are you?”  
  
Shifting again, Cas sighed. He wiggled his hips on Dean’s erection and gave out a breathy laugh. “You think you’re the only one who can wiggle his hips to get a desire affect.”  
  
That was permission. Dean reached forward and pulled Cas’ hips into his lap. His moan was echoed by one of Cas’.  
  
Dean started a rhythm, grinding into Cas, and Cas caught on.  
  
“Wait,” Cas murmured. He pulled away.  
  
Dean almost whimpered; it was the first time he had felt this good since he was turned back into a human. He didn’t have to worry for long though. Cas whirled around and pounced on Dean. He wedged his knees between Dean’s thighs and made room for himself.  
  
“Is this okay?” Cas began to rock his hips into Dean's.  
  
“Very.”  
  
Cas smirked and pushed up into Dean to kiss him on the lips.  
  
\---  
  
They returned and not much changed. Cas hung around the Bunker still. He went through the books and read all the ones that neither of the brothers could read because of language barriers. Cas and Sam ganged up on Dean whenever he didn’t want to eat his vegetables.  
  
Sam or Dean would look for a case and Cas would try to find something in the major wonders of the world that linked to the Mark.  
  
Each night, though, especially if they were at the Bunker, Dean and Sam would return to their respective rooms then Cas would retire for the night too, in Dean’s room - well, Dean-and-Cas' room. They didn’t hide it from Sam; but, they didn’t flaunt it either.  
  
They’re relationship hardly changed. It was like you couldn’t notice; but, the Mark was getting stronger and the need for a cure, greater.  
  
They’d find it though.  
  
Dean took Cas’ hand while they lay in bed together.  
  
They’d find it together.

**Author's Note:**

> Come on over to my tumblr if you want to send me a request or prompt: cockleddean.tumblr.com/ask


End file.
